


why couldn't you have just loved me (was it really that hard?)

by AngstBabyJae



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Child Abuse, Closure, Cussing, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Happy Ending, Manipulation, One Shot, Past Child Abuse, Physical Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Harm, Shadow Weaver | Light Spinner (She-Ra)'s A+ Parenting, angst baby jae at it again, catra makes peace after shadow weaver's death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-19 19:07:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20662238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngstBabyJae/pseuds/AngstBabyJae
Summary: tw for graphic depictions and discussion of child abuse, but u should know that at this point lolThe war is over. Catra is redeemed. The rebellion won. And Shadow Weaver is dead. Catra is at Mystacore for her funeral of sorts and comes across her statue in the middle of the night. After all this time, she still has a lot she needs to say. This might be her only chance to do it, even she isn't really there. Even if she could never hear it.---“Why couldn’t you have just loved me?” she asks the statue, “Loved me like a parent is supposed to love a child?”Of course the statue says nothing, so she keeps going.





	why couldn't you have just loved me (was it really that hard?)

She wanders Mystacore in the dead of night. She knows she’s supposed to be sleeping.

After Shadow Weaver was finally taken down they transported her body here to be burned. They knew she was going to the Mystacorian version of hell, but they will give her the proper death rights anyways. Catra is there to attend the ceremony. To say goodbye.

She tells herself she has nothing to say.

That is a lie.

She finds herself at the foot of a large statue.

A statue of the one called Light Spinner. Not as she was known as the feared Shadow Weaver. Some say she wasn’t always the manipulative, abusing asshole to her pupils that Catra had known all her life. Something in Catra’s gut tells her that she was never any different. And by the way Micah speaks of her influence… she knew she was correct.

She looks up at the statue.

And finds something to say.

One final lament on what could have been. One final question. To put her demons to rest, if only for one night.

“Why couldn’t you have just loved me?” she asks the statue, “Loved me like a parent is supposed to love a child?”

Of course the statue says nothing, so she keeps going.

“Would it have really been so hard? To just love me? It wasn’t for Adora!” she accused, “And she never even stopped even after all the crazy shit I pulled! I asked you back in the Horde once, remember that? Right before you stabbed me in the fucking back! I asked you why you hurt me over, and over, and over again until I was so broken that I am just now starting to piece back together and I feel like I’ll never truly heal, like there’ll always be a chip in the bowl, like there’ll always be a crack. Like I’m missing something, like I can never heal. Because of what you did to me!”

She glared up at the statue, picturing it crumbling under her gaze. Tears spilled from her eyes and her claws dug into her palms, stinging as they drew blood, and Catra wonders why she even came out here in the first place.

“You know, it doesn’t take much to traumatize a child. You did _too_ much. You ruined me, and you wanted to make sure every day that I knew it. That I knew it was my fault, not yours, never yours,” she sniffled, wiping her nose, “I know now that you fucked me up. You fucked me up good. You can’t even blame it on whatever weird high you’d get off of the black garnet, because underneath it all we both know it was you. Always you. You and your stupid mind games, your stupid magic, your stupid abuse. I learned that word in Brightmoon after I defected. Abuse. Not only that, it was child abuse. You abused me. You abused Adora, too. And Micah, and Glimmer after her mother died, and whoever else you fucking had under your care before us. It was abuse and it was wrong. And I’m sorry that it took me so long to realize it. It probably would have saved me a lot of pain. Adora, too,”

She lifted up her shirt as if the show the statue the marks of her pain.

“A lot of these are from training. A lot from fighting, real fighting, on a battlefield. Some are from little mishaps over the years. A lot are from Adora, good and bad,” she ran her fingers shakily over the lightning-esque markings snaking around her flesh, covering her front to back, “I don’t need to tell you where these are from. You already know. Scars from prolonged use of magic, et-cetera, et-cetera. Binding magic, pain magic, all your magic. I once asked Adora, ‘Give me a reason to live,’ and you know what? She couldn’t give me any. So thanks for that. I could have been a normal kid. One without scars that come from an adult’s hand, or usually in your case magic bullshit,” she shoved her shirt back down, closing her eyes for a moment, rubbing her aching temples.

“Kids aren’t supposed to be hurt like this! Even now that I know you were the one wrong, I can’t stop asking myself ‘what did I do wrong!?’ What… d-did I d-do… w-wrong?” she felt to her knees with an anguished mourning cry. Not in morning of the cruel woman who raised her, but of life she should’ve had. A life where she was loved, “There’s nothing I could have done to deserve that. I know that now. You tried to feed me some crap about me reminding you of your own shitty self, but that’s no fucking excuse!”

She sighed, wringing her head in her hands.

“I c-can’t keep beating myself up like this! I’M NOT LIKE YOU!” she leaped to her feet, pointing accusingly at the still unanimous statue, “I’M NOT! YOU WERE A SICK FREAK! YOU WERE A MONSTER!”

_“You sick freak!” Shadow Weaver had screamed at her as she stayed suspended in magic, willing her young self not to cry, “You miserable little animal, you’re a mangy little monster, aren't you?”_

She sobbed miserably. She couldn’t control as her mind trapped her in another waking nightmare. Another memory.

_“I’m sorry-”_

_“You need to learn a lesson,”_

_“No…”_

_“It needs to stick. To get through that thick skull of yours,”_

_“No!”_

_“I’m doing this for your own good...”_

_“NO!”_

_Then Shadow Weaver curled her fingers inward towards her palm and the pain began._

_Her eyes popped, her mouth dried. She couldn’t breathe. She had to clench her teeth to keep from biting her tongue._

_Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry…_

_Shadow Weaver squeezed her fist harder and a guttural sound emerged from Catra’s lips, growing until it erupted into a yowl and then a blood-curdling screech._

_She screamed and screamed and screamed. Her body ached. No one would come to save her now. Not even Adora._

_“Silence, brat! Take your punishment like a good girl!” then she noticed the tears, “And it seems you can’t even do that right. What did we say about crying, child?” she cooed, reaching forth to caress her tear-stricken face as she cried herself hoarse._

_She winced visibly, pain still coursing through her in devastating waves._

_Shadow Weaver tsked as she shook her head._

_“I wanted this to be easy for you, Catra, I really did. But you brought thing on yourself,” she prepared her hand._

_“N-NO!!!”_

_She was so sore the next day that Adora had asked what was wrong. She had simply learned to control her tears._

“I didn’t deserve it,” she whispered to the statue, shaking with tears, “It wasn’t fair,”

_“Life isn’t fair, child,” she imagined the statue calling back, “I was simply preparing you for it,”_

“Goodbye, Shadow Weaver,” she touched the base of the statue with her hand, bowing her head and closing her eyes for a moment, “I’ve made my peace,” and with that she walked back to her quarters and didn’t look back.

Shadow Weaver’s abuse continued to follow her her entire life.

But she had her new family to get her through it all.


End file.
